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Chapter Text

They meet when Baby is 16 and Debora is 21, Baby has a concussion and needs to be watched and woken up every half hour by someone Doc trusts, so he calls his favourite niece to care for his favourite driver.

Doc should have realized the age difference wouldn’t mean much to either of them.

Baby had called Debbie an angel within the first second of seeing her, and kept acting surprised when she smiled and said she was a human. It was sickening.

(“You’re human! But you’re so pretty!”)

What was even more sickening was the pining that happened afterwards. Baby was quiet about it, but Debbie, in full undergrad angst cut out pictures of Baby and hid them in places she thought Doc wouldn’t find them. After two months of this attitude he bribed her mother to send her away to California.

(“He’s sixteen!”

“He’s MINE!”

“You are grooming him. It’s disgusting.”)

With Debora away Baby has time to come down from the first love feelings and his first experience of teenage hormones, and things go well, until finally Debora comes back.

(“You’re 24, and he’s 19.”

“I know, but I promise to keep to a pace he can deal with. Before I was … I was bad. But I want to be good now. I want to be good for him.”

“And if he rejects your feelings?”

“Actually … I was hoping for friendship first.”

He sighs, “Fine. No sex until he is 21.”

“Okay.”)

Surprisingly, friendship is the main focus. But then, when Baby reaches 21 he realizes he had been hoodwinked by his goddam niece. She had tricked him, and now Baby was head over heels in love with the psychopathic niece of a crime boss.

(“And what happens when he falls in love?”

“He loves me.”

“He loves an image he created in his mind, which you did nothing to dissuade him of.”)

And then Monica Costello and Jason van Horn walk into his goddam hideout, and Doc can see the hearts appearing in Baby’s eyes.

Goddamit.

…….

Notes; Honestly i have no idea how i’d deal with this, i was hoping someone else would pick it up? There needs to be more works out there showing that women are perpetrators of domestic abuse, and i’ve been rolling a lot of crazy!debora stories around in my mind (what with her ride or die attitude) (although all my draft sk far are happy ending! Cuz im a sucker for a good ending). I’ll be writing a Happy! Debora-is-doc’s-niece fic later, but i just wanted to get this out there.

So, how i’m picturing the plot;
baby falls head over heels for buddy and darling, who gain affection in turn
Debora discovers him making playlists and mixtapes about them/using their words and starts getting physically abusive, not just emotionally
Doc doesn’t want to side with Baby against Debbie cuz she’s his heir, and would technically inherit baby from him as an asset
But he also cares for Baby and thinks what she is doing is disgusting
Bats & Debora have some history, so he placed himself in Doc’s path to gain access to her
Revenge? Idk?

And then from there my mind goes blank, i’m really more made for independent scripts when things start getting rough, because i’m okay with hurting my characters, but other people's characters feel like i'm breaking someone else’s art.

Chapter Text

“The mission brief starts now, all non necessary personnel must vacate the room.”

There was a pause as support staff, technical support and other members of Kingsmen left the briefing room. All that remained were Merlin, Eggsy, Roxanne, and Merlin’s main support team.

Merlin stood firm, stance filled with the new authority he held as regent of Kingsman, “Lancelot, Galahad, as you are aware, the situation in the United States has deteriorated further, with the recent investigation and reporting that their past President had been one of Valentine’s supporters. The Democratic People’s Front has lost its footing with the population, and our sister agency, the Statesmen has reached out and asked us to come into the territory to take an audit of the situation and investigate their opposition, known only as the Cooperative.”

Behind Merlin the wall flickered away revealing a large screen with five images. The first is of a distinguished looking white male, in his late 50s, shot with good lighting in what looked like a casino, with the man smiling to the side, turned only slightly away from the camera. The second picture is of a burning building, with a small firefight happening in front of it, the figures are indistinguishable due to the far away perspective of the camera. The third through fifth pictures are all promotional pictures, Come to the Cooperative, where your dreams will come true! Says the first,  the other two echoing that statement for the ‘Cooperative’. Promoting safety and economic success. 

“Not much is known of the Cooperative other than that it is led by this man, known only as Doc, he is an incredibly illusive individual, their control spans nearly one third of the former country and they appear to have formed pre-V Day. As you will see in your mission briefing files, so far all undercover agents have been discovered and removed from the organization.” Merlin clicked and the images of the five cycled to the side while a series of photos showing the dead bodies of four Statesmen agents were shown, each with their identification listed next to them and the length of time it took them to be discovered. “Because of these limited reports we have very little information about the Cooperative’s motives.” Eggsy was unnerved to see that two of the four had been beheaded, the other two were disfigured from drowning and a gunshot to the face. “We believe that the best way of infiltrating the Cooperative and discovering their overall objective and whether or not they are a serious safety concern for civilians is through one of his warlords, “ at this Merlin clicked to the next slide, “our analysis shows that a two pronged attack would be best.”

The image flicked back to the five images, Eggsy now looked at these seemingly innocuous images with concern. He had heard about the brutality the United States was facing, but this … this didn’t match the reports he had heard. 

Merlin continued, “Lancelot - you will be infiltrating the duel warlord’s Jason van Horn and Monica Costello territory. They are known widely as Buddy and Darling, they control what is left of the states of Missouri, Arkansas and Kansas, all now known within America as the New Front, our analysts believe that they are in charge of expansion efforts, edging into the surrounding states. Lancelot will be Roxanne Simpson, an international university student caught within V Day, studying at the University of Missouri, and now stranded in the States. Further information will be provided to you by your handler,” Roxy nodded and stood at parade rest.

Merlin turns to Eggsy, “Galahad you will be infiltrating the region of the warlord known as Bats, real name Leon Jefferson the third, who is in charge of Nevada, whose name appears to not have changed. ‘Bats’ appears to be taking on a role as a mob boss over the casinos. Our analysts have posited that a majority of the Cooperative’s funding comes from revenue from the casinos as well as an underground market. Again, you will be provided with your identity and further pertinent information by your handler.”

“Even as this is a deep cover plan, understand the end goal is for your two to end up working together as you infiltrate New Georgia, this will likely be done through the water convoy from Nevada to the New Front and back, but you must be careful. This will be an extended mission, and rushing will only lead to death.”

“Now remember Roxanne, Eggsy, this mission is strictly infiltration, no takedowns necessary. No matter how terrible the shattering of the states is, any further disorder could result in even worse damage.”

“And what if it's true that this leader guy is the devil?” Eggsy

“If his people are protected and safe, who are we to put our foot in it? You must also monitor the situation by the Democratic People’s Front. Ensure that they are protecting their people.”

...

Eggsy, later as an aside to Roxy, “you’d think after killing the bad guy the world would magically go back to normal.”

“If only.” she sighed.

Chapter Text

Baby could barely breathe as he moved into the near-empty diner, followed by the crew. Debora’s smile upon seeing him lifted his heart but he refused to smile back. If anything happened to her Baby didn’t know what he would do, she was the one good thing in his life. 

But then Debora’s smile fell from her face and the coffee jar in her right hand fell to the ground, shattering, “Dad?” her voice trembled in a light whisper.

…

Debora’s backstory went down in the way you would expect. She grew up wealthy, going to fancy private schools, wearing nice clothes, and then, when some unforeseen circumstance happened (caught embezzling funds, market crash, scheming coworker) her parents lost everything. Her dad left soon after and Debora - who, in the typical tragic fashion, was young enough to still be in high school and therefore wasn’t able to even contemplate university - was stuck looking after her no longer wealthy socialite mother, whose health soon failed her.

Long ago Debora accepted that her story wasn’t special, that she wasn’t special. She was a classic tragedy, a pre-written plot which any script writer could pick up and discard.

Baby made her feel special, he made her feel wanted.

When they talked, when he looked at her, she saw herself in his eyes.

She was beautiful, but not just physically, with the way he hung off her every word, devoted himself to her sentences and her thoughts. Her desires, her beliefs, everything that came from her mouth was a gift Baby cherished. He held doors open for her, made silly little waving motions with his hands and bobbed his head in little bows, making her the queen of his kingdom. She was royalty, she was powerful.  

It reminded her of when she was younger, in some half forgotten childhood, when the boys and girls around her ceded to her every whim, but only barely. Because, in the end, Baby devoted himself to her , and only loved her beauty and her royalty because it was hers . He spoke to her, smiled at her, and she knew what kind of person he was, she knew people like him. Shift workers, working hour by hour, trying to make it to the next pay cheque without breaking down, someone who had given up on his own hopes and dreams because of circumstance. He told her about his hopes, and while he had accepted her dream as his own, she hoped one day he would find his, and share it with her. Nothing could take that from her.

Just like nothing could take her Baby away.

… 

Baby turned and saw Buddy, who had stopped in the doorway, he looked … floored, “Debbie?” the hardened criminal whispered.

There was a moment where Debora’s eyes shined before her face hardened, “Baby get away from him.”

He took a step towards Debora, before a hand on his arm stopped him, Bats pulled him back, “Now now kid, let’s see what happens first.”

Debora’s face was suddenly vicious as she turned on Bats, “You’re like him aren’t you, if you touch a hair on his head-”

“Debbie ...” Buddy was nearly ashen as he stepped forward.

Debora reared back, before moving around the counter, Bats moved with her, dragging Baby away from her. “You don’t get to call me that.”

“Jason?” whispered Monica.

“Debora, wait -” Buddy murmured before Debora suddenly moved, and pulled out a shotgun from behind the bar, aiming it at Bats.

“Woah woah, cool it girl.” Bats grip was still firm on Baby’s arm.

“Let go of Baby,” she snarled at Bats, “Baby come on, we’re leaving.”

“Okay, okay.” When Baby was free he practically rushed to Debora’s side. She stepped out from behind the counter, moving so she was in front of Baby.

“Go through the back door Baby, I’ll be right here.”

They moved in sync, Baby glancing at the crew’s expressions, Bats face was screwed up in some strange mix of anger and hilarity, Darling’s face was hardened, but there were notes of confusion in her stance. Buddy looked heartbroken, like something had forced all the air from his lungs.

Just as the door closed Baby heard Bats laugh, “Doc’s gonna be so fucking mad.”

…

In the car, Baby is nearly silent as Debora guns it away from the diner, and his last (hopefully final) team, “How’d’ya know my dad, Baby?”

He stared at his hands, silent.

“Tell me.”

“I work with him.”

“Of fucking course.” She sighed and blew her fringe away from her eyes. “I like you Baby, I really do, but my dad is bad news.”

“I,” he swallowed, mouth dry, but marched on, “I’m bad news.”

Debora didn’t respond for a second, and Baby desperately squeezed his knees, waiting and waiting as the silence stretched on… the car turned and slowed before stopping on a silent road.

Hands pried Baby’s hands away from his knees, and Baby looked up into her warm eyes, “Baby, I know bad news, you ain’t it.” She breathed out, “We need to get out of here.”

“Joe …” he murmured, trailing off.

 “We’ll go get him, take him with us … I know a place where he’ll be safe.”

“Okay.” 

…

The phone call to Doc was one Buddy hadn’t ever expected, after he finished explaining he waited, listening in dread to the silence on the other end, before he spoke again, “Don’t hurt her … she’s my daughter.”

“Your daughter is stealing my best driver.”

Chapter Text

Footsteps echoed, and the leader of this crew, the so-called ‘Doc’ (the Bugs Bunny flashes did not help her keep a straight face when confronting the vicious leader of a famous bank robbing crew) looked up and smiled at the same time Debora turned to face the new member.

Oh.

“Baby, so good to see you.”

Not him.

…

They had met at the pharmacy, both of them listening to their music, with Debora singing along and Baby moving to the beat … how ironic. There was a lot of irony when you compared Baby and Debora. Because, of course, the reason Debora was in this business was because of her mother, her poor, ill mother, who had just been released from the hospital, and was stuck in Debbie’s apartment until her next treatment. Her earnings helped pay for her mom’s medication, for her expensive treatments, for the roof over their head. In contrast, Baby was in the business to leave the business - not that she knew that back then - coming to the pharmacy to buy medicine for his father with carefully rationed out social service’s cheques, whereas Debora took full advantage of the dough she raked in.

Debora knew she wasn't a good person.

She reiterated this fact throughout her career; her first home invasion ... her most recent robbery. Every face stricken with fear, every bullet she had to dispense, every share she was handed … Was it bad that she had never reached that ‘numb’ stage? 

Lucille, one of the few other women Debora shared work schedules with, had once given her some advice, “You listen here Johnny … jus’ listen … yur all bright eyed and well adjusted now, but don’t you worry, one day you’ll give in … become numb.” Even now, after eight years, Debora still remembers that particularly belch, that Lucille was so good at, followed by, “I’m twenty six, it’s been two years since I gave the fuck up on people. Some pouty eyed bank teller with cute kids isn't gonna get between me and my share!”

She was sure now that Lucille was full of shit. But back then, when she was fast approaching 20 with three years of experience under her belt, the idea that she was going to become numb soon had been relieving. 

Debora was 28 now, and had decided that everyone in the job was just as fucked up about it as she was - well except for the infamous Bats, whom she had worked with for some of her most ‘interesting’ jobs - and kinda just went with the flow.

In terms of job experience, Debora would say they were pretty even … Hell if they were ever going to have one of those fancy job interviews Debbie could say she had forced herself into as many hands on situations as possible, while Baby had done a fucktonne of overtime.

It was funny where the line crossed between what they shared and what differentiated them. Take their music for example, Baby had bad hearing and therefore blasted his music to hear it without the constant ringing noise, Debora on the other hand could hear the music Baby blasted from five feet away, able to pick up the words and guitar riffs from those little white buds.

In fact, her hearing was the main reason she was in the ‘business’.

Irony. Gotta love it.

…

When Baby stopped walking Doc stopped talking.

“ Baby ?” 

Debbie didn't realize she had spoken until the crew had swiveled from Doc to her.

(Baby would forever pretend that his music was high enough that he didn't hear the pain in those two syllables, that he had been focusing on Doc and not her face as the shock and sadness crossed it. 

And the rage, the sudden, inescapable rage, that made Debora look less like a sunrise clad in denim and yellow fabric and more like and more like someone Doc would hire.)

The two stared at each other until Doc’s voice shattered their standoff. 

“My office. Now.”

…

Doc’s office was the same as the rest of the safe house, neat and organized but rundown. It’s main advantage was that Doc could meet with people there, privately.

Baby bit at his fingernails nervously. 

God. He hoped it wasn’t one of those private meetings. The kind where people rarely, if ever were able to walk out. Or even crawl out.

While Baby had sat, Debora stood, unconsciously he hunched further in on himself, staring up at the terrifying image of Doc.

(Why was the only good thing in his life here?

What did Baby do to deserve this? He tried so hard to be good. But everything, every moment in his life showed that Baby didn’t deserve good things. He didn’t deserve a good father. And when he felt sorry for himself about that, it was decided that he didn’t deserve parents. He had been so angry, he had wanted to prove that he could have saved them, if he had been behind the wheel … And then he didn’t deserve reprieve from the guilt. Joe had been a blessing, until Baby realized that he was bad for him, he endangered his life by being around him. And now, after he had worked so so hard to be good for Doc, to finally be able to be good for people, his one person was bad.

Had he been born bad?)

Doc turns, and slams his hands down on the desk. In his emptiest, scariest voice he questions Debora, “So Johnny, how do you know my driver .”

(Abruptly he remembers the name tag, ‘Jonathan’ and realized she was wearing the nametag here too. 

Was everything about her a lie?)

And Debora speaks, and it feels like Baby’s heart is breaking, “We both eat at Bo’s diner. I didn’t realize he was your boy.”

Doc stares at her. Debora doesn’t seem to be any worse for wear, but Baby knows the feeling of that stare, it took his years to not fold and break under that glare, now he just folds. “Wait with the others.” He pronounces the words clearly, and as she moves away (abandoning Baby) she doesn’t look at him. 

Once the door is closed Doc turns his glare on Baby, “Now Baby, tell me the truth, how do you know dear Johnny?”

“Bo’s diner.”

“And if I was to check security footage of you two?” He raises an eyebrow, “What would I find then?”

Baby clears his throat, “Errands, groceries, laundry and stuff.” He glances at Doc, who now has his most exasperated expression.

“Are you two dating ?”

He can feel the flush inch up his cheeks, “Ah, I- maybe?”

Doc sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Well we can’t have that.”

…

Later, after the awful private conversation and the following supremely awkward debrief, Debora calls. 

He answers, putting the phone on speaker, but doesn’t say anything.

“Baby?”

Silence from Baby, as he wraps his arms around himself.

“Baby, please I can explain … I didn’t know that you …” she trails off. Taking a deep breath, audible over the speaker she speaks again, “I started doing this for my mom’s medical bills, and then when she died it was all I had left.” Her breath shudders out, “I needed the thrill or else I would lie down and give up.

Baby has lied back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, “Baby, don’t be angry at me. If I knew you were in the business I would have told you.”

He huffs a laugh, “Debora … I.”

“Yes Baby?”

“Doc says I can’t see you anymore.”

“Oh, Baby.” Her voice is hushed.

“Please don’t call me again.”

He hangs up. Stares at the ceiling, tears coming from his eyes.

Doc’s voice rings out, “You won’t be seeing, speaking, or messaging that girl every again.”

…

“What’s with the kid?”

Darling gave Bats a blank stare.

“He’s more down than usual.”

“Didn’t take you for a someone who gives a shit, Bats.”

“I don’t care about the kid, I care about the job.”

Doc’s voice rang through the room. “Baby’s fine. Just some personal problems.” He turns on the youngest member, who sinks down into his chair, “Will the personal problems affect the crew?”

“No Doc.” Whispers Baby.

…

“So, Johnny, what's got you so down?” Hummed Darling, seated across from Debora at the warehouse.

“Nothing.”

“Was it a boy? Do I need to rip out his spi-”

“No! There will be no spine ripping or anything like that!”

“So it was a boy”, said Buddy

“No I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it Johnny”, sing-songed Darling.

“So … What did he do?” Buddy asked

Darling looked down, “He didn't do anything, it's fine.”

“Honey when a girl says ‘fine’ everything is on fire.” said Buddy with a knowing look at Darling, in response Darling flipped her hair over her shoulder with an unrepentant smirk.

“There’s nothing that can be done.”

“Quit the chit-chat, it's time to work,” snarled Doc as he came in.

Darling watched as Johnny averted her eyes, speculatively she looked towards Doc’s intimidating suited figure.

“Do something for me Johnny,” she says later.

“Anything Darling.”

“Go chat up Baby, see what’s got him so down.”

...

From there things ... escalated.

...

In a sordid honeymoon sweet in a hotel in Las Vegas, Darling pushed Buddy against a wall. 

“It was so hot when you shot that stiff asshole in the head.”

“And you were smokin’ when you burnt the building down.”

“I love you Monica.”

“Love you too Jason.”

…

And in Baby’s room at Joe’s place, Debora and Baby cuddled together, all their problems solved with a couple bullets and a bucket of gasoline.

Chapter Text

On evenings such as this, where the man known as Doc would be meeting people with equal or greater power than him, he liked to brush the dust off his lucky charm. Miles wouldn’t betray Doc to his enemies (because of the debt Doc dangles over his pretty little head), and Miles never knew enough to blab (Miles didn’t get briefings or intelligence about Doc’s enemies, he didn’t warrant such consideration ). There were some added benefits, Miles’ ability to dodge police cars after a heist directly correlated with his ability to lose tails, meaning that Doc never had to worry that his method of transport would leak information on his operation.

He glanced out the window, watching the sleeping city as it slipped by, bringing them closer to their destination, and probably the most dangerous people that Doc has ever dealt with. Reflexively he stopped himself from gripping his wrist. Perhaps not the most dangerous, Doc had met many beings in his time.

The building itself, when Miles pulled up to it, stood as if a testament to innovation, it was a sleek glass building, towering into the skyline, with a geometric sculpture either depicting a naked woman or a tree in front. Miles smoothly pulled into the front entrance, quickly getting out of the car and opening the door for Doc. 

Doc barely looked at Baby as he climbed out, “Wait with the car.”

...

“Wait with the car.” Baby returned to the car and followed the signs to the staff parking. 

Car parked he pulled out his iPod, scrolling between two playlists indecisive between his casual ‘doctor’s office’ and his ‘why the fuck am I doing this’ one. There was a thump outside, but nothing Baby could see.

Another thump. Still nothing in sight.

Another. 

He unlocks the car door, opening it an inch, before it is violently grabbed from his grip and he is yanked out of the car by a man that is suddenly there.

“Sto-” he is slammed against the pavement, breath leaving his lungs in a rush.

His headphones fall from his ears, and he is dragged back up, and pushed against the side of his car. The man holding him is big, ugly, and had terrible breath, like rotting meat. 

Baby can barely focus, desperately trying to push him away even as he gets closer -

“Hey now, that’s not very nice.”

Almost instantly Baby’s assailant pulled back from him, “What’s it to-” was snarled before leaping backwards at the sight of his savior. Fear was clear in the hunch of his back, and with a simple gesture the man ran. 

“Hey there, you alright?”

Baby stayed near frozen against the door of his car, as the man approached him, with his palms up in an ‘easy there’ gesture. The man was white, tall, almost as tall as Baby and built much stronger than him, with dark cropped hair and gentle eyes. The most striking thing about him was his clothing; which just screamed … something. Or maybe it just screamed. A glittery red leather jacket which looked to be bedazzled, followed by sensible leather boots and a traditional looking kilt … no shirt. 

The adrenaline was catching up with him, and Baby’s legs were beginning to feel weak, his tinnitus screaming into his brain. The next words from the man’s mouth were barely legible, but there was concern on his face, ‘my name is’ and then something. 

Baby slid down the side of the car, breath coming in short bursts, the man followed his down, crouching nearly three feet from him making gestures which probably intended to be soothing but instead looked panicked. 

He needed to calm down … he had to calm down. He was on a job, and Doc could walk around that corner any second. And the man that helped him … he didn’t want to get him hurt. These thoughts only served to panic him further, but also prompted him to go through the steps. 

…

Somehow the man had managed to carry Baby’s not inconsiderable weight into the hotel, bringing him around the staff side even as he went through a panic attack. Somewhere he marveled at his bedazzled, kilted-rescuer’s strength, but mostly he was focusing on breathing. 

The staff space of the building was to be expected, the opulence he had glimpsed through the lobby was gone, instead replaced by utilitarian tile, wall paint and the occasional shelf. The man almost kicked down a door into a small lounge, with one other occupant who looked shocked at their arrival even as Baby was deposited on one of the seats.

The ringing in his ears was terrible. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, his body hurt . And he was already terrified by Doc’s reaction.

A woman covered in a fluffy purple coat rushed up to them once they were inside, checking his eyes, and spoke quickly to the man, she looked furious. Collapsed on a surprisingly comfortable couch, all Baby could do was try and control his breathing, as the exceptionally colourful couple heatedly spoke. 

Baby closed his eyes.

It seemed like no time had passed, when a surprisingly cold hand began stroking his back, or maybe it had always been doing that? A deep voice wafted into his mind, finally audible.

“Deep breaths now kid, in and out, breathe in and out, that’s it, you’re doing so good.”

Blindly he followed the instructions, eyes firmly closed. Behind him there was a sound of the door opening, bringing a rush of cold air before it closed, followed by footsteps.

A woman’s voice, “How’s he doing?”

“He’s breathing more regularly. He should be done soon.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t get Doctor Franks.”

The man sighed, and Baby felt a gentle breeze ruffle his hair, “It’s a panic attack, Darling, I used to get them all the time.” He paused, but the movement of his hand didn’t, “Doctor’s can make them worse, depending on the person.”

Baby took another sharp breath before attempting to speak, his voice came out as a croak. The woman spoke, her voice a gentle order, “Go get his some water, lover.” The man’s hand left and the door opened and shut. 

Slowly Baby unfolded himself, and was met with the sight of the woman (Darling?) with the purple coat (and not very much else), uncomfortable, he kept his eyes on her face. She was beautiful.

“Hey there kid, keep breathing smoothly okay? We’ll have some water for you in a minute.”

His embarrassment, previously forgotten, began to trickle in, he had a panic attack on the job, in front of people … in front of beautiful people . 

“S-sorry.” He managed to garble out.

She shushed him, “it’s okay.”

The door reopened and the man (Lover?) came in with the promised water. Baby gladly gulped it down.

The two waited patiently as Baby finished his glass.

“Need more?” Asked the man.

Baby shook his head.

“What were you doing out there?”

“My-my boss. He had a meeting. Asked me to wait out there.”

The two exchanged a glance and the woman leaned forward, “Your boss have a name?”

Baby coloured, “Uh, it’s Doc. I don’t know his real name …” he trailed off.

The woman looked thoughtful, before shaking it off an smiling at him, “I know who he’s meeting with, he won’t be done for another hour.”

“Oh.” Baby didn’t want to wait in the parking lot. Not after what had just happened.

The man seemed to read his mind, “It might be best if you waited inside for your boss.” 

“I- uh,” swiftly Baby’s protest was interrupted.

“I’m sure he won’t mind.” The woman smiled at him reassuringly. 

…

That was how Baby ended up at the lobby bar, being served a non-alcoholic drink by the woman, with the man sitting beside him. 

(“One drink won’t kill you.”

“I’m working.”

“Live a little kid.”

Baby stared at the cocktails being served by the other bartenders, thinking only of his dad. He could feel himself panicking again - he would drink it, if they told him, he would -

The woman swatted at the man who playfully took it, Baby suppressing an instinctual flinch beside their obvious playacting.

“Don’t bully him Lover.” She smiled down at Baby from the heightened bar area, “I’ll make you something non-alcoholic, sweet or savoury?”)

They ended up spending the next hour together, the lobby music working well to suppress Baby’s tinnitus until he could return to the car. The man and the woman would occasionally speak, sometimes drawing Baby in, sometimes not, but they remained with him, and Baby, well he felt comfortable . More than he had in a long time.

At some point in time the man had flung his bedazzled arm around Baby’s shoulders, physical contact which he would usually shy from but didn’t even notice as they spoke about Big Mama Thornton’s music.

That was how Doc found him. Not following his orders, waiting with the car, instead he was fraternizing at a bar, with two people he didn’t even know.

The quiet throat clearing was all the warning Baby got before he turned to find Doc. His happiness melted away, quickly.

“Making friends, Baby?”

He shook his head and stood, quickly, nearly falling over himself as he went to him. He knew from experience not to say anything when Doc was mad. Doc’s eyes darted from the man and woman back to him, eyes darting over him, before he turned to the couple and smiled, “I’lll be taking my driver now.”

The woman smiled, toasting to Doc with her glass of wine. “Of course.”

The man smiled too, although his expression was much more frosty, “Apologies for distracting him.”

Doc smiled, eyes ice cold, “No harm done.” He jerked his head to Baby and left, Baby following.

He suppressed the instinct to glance back at the couple.

…

The next day Doc sent a package to his door. A note, a new iPod - he hadn’t even noticed the other was gone - and a necklace.

All the note said was; ‘Wear it.”

Baby glanced down at the silver necklace, before quickly putting it on, hiding it under his shirt. He didn’t bother wondering why.

Chapter Text

In his early thirties Bats joined a team with an inside man.

Leon Jefferson the third had been in the ‘game’ for a while, starting out as a hitter for the Italians down in Florida, and slowing moving his way around the positions, making a name for himself, made a scary as fuck brand. He had met his fair share of bosses, murderers, dealers, and fellow psychos, and he had had the joy of disposing of two undercover police officers. This time it wasn’t like that.

The kid didn’t look like a cop, didn’t act like one, a late twenty something with an attitude problem, his wire was threaded into his jacket, completely hidden from even his experienced eye, so no one knew.

It was one of those hit and run crews, led by some shady fuckers who never showed their faces. They organized the teams, sent them instructions, and if they followed their orders to a T, they got generous cuts. If not, the leader would disappear until they ‘learn their lesson’. Bats had never bothered testing that particular threat, preferring money in the bank, not in the wind.

Back to the undercover, this kid had been placed in their crew to get to the shadowy overlord dude. They ran three successful jobs together, and the kid didn’t even flinch at the various ‘clauses’ in their contract; where to go, what to wear, how to get there, and the required injuries of each assignment.

So at the fourth mission, during the now-typical cash drop, the kid’s team was able to swan in there like they owned the place, and grab the whole lot of them. Bats managed to get three years - which was good, in comparison to the others - and got out after a year on good behaviour. He kept close to his parole officer, even as he got right back into the game where he left out, bitten but unflinching.

Once his parole was up he killed the kid and skipped town.

And now in his new job working under another shady fucker, he could picture himself going away and doing time because ‘phones looked like a sweet talker. A kid like that would get scared off pretty quick. He would run, tail between his legs right to the pigs, his squeal left behind in the dust.

So now Bats was gonna set up some preventative actions. The shady fucker, Doc, liked him, liked his brand, wanted him to keep working for him. Which he didn’t mind, he liked having a relatively predictable income, except for the kid. He could tell from his face, from the way he watched the kid, that somewhere in his burnt out little soul he cared for the kid.

Time for Leon to find this ‘Baby’ and find out everything about him; his name, where he lived, what he loved. He needed to know everything so he could rule over the kid, could be ready with the right threat when the situation called for it, and show the kid what would happen if he crossed Bats.

And if that didn’t work … well all the background work would be the perfect prep work for a murder.

…

He ended up hanging out after the next crew meet up. Previous meet ups had shown the kid was the last to leave, and usually with Doc. Outside the current abandoned office building he waited in a newly stolen car for the kid to exit. He expected to see the kid drive out, but instead he walked out. 

Bats, who was currently wearing a bright red jacket, nearly cursed. There would be no way to subtly follow the kid on foot.

…

The next meet up he was ready, a simple change of clothes later and he was ready to follow the kid on foot. 

Bats spent a good hour walking casually after the kid, finally stopping outside a hospital. The kid enters confidently enough, but Bats waits outside, mildly sure he’s been made.

Another hour passes, and just when Bats is certain the kid looped through the back of the building he comes out again, his arm outstretched to support an old man who almost shuffled out. They sit at one of the benches, and wait, because of course, more waiting.

Bats is nearly bored out of his skull.

Finally, a piece of shit car pulls up and an equally old woman comes out and helps Baby get the man in the car, which Baby clambers into as well. And off they go. 

He watches in dismay as the car turns the corner and disappears from his sight. 

Later, he curses himself for forgetting to write the license plate down.

…

Third time’s the charm.

This stalking session (information gathering mission) wasn’t planned, which may have been why it worked. It had been a month since his last job for Doc, and the ‘lay low’ orders had been summarily ignored. Sitting in his latest stolen car, he continued to case out the money drop station, when Leon sees ‘Baby’ walking down the street.

Forgetting his surveillance, he pulls the car into a public parking lot, pulls on a gray jacket, and runs out of the lot, scaring some old biddies while doing so. He was just fast enough to see the back of the kid’s jacket as he turned down a side street, and (subtly) races after him

…

This place couldn’t be where the kid lived. Not with the dough he makes off Doc. No expenses could burn through that cash quickly enough to limit the kid to a place like this; hell those idiot love birds had one of the more serious cocaine habits he had ever seen, and they lived in the lap of luxury. 

He paced outside the building, before parking his butt in an alleyway adjacent to the building, with good cover but also a good view of the front door. 

Three hours pass before Bats accepts that this might just be the kid’s place.

Why the fuck is this kid living here ?

…

Baby’s heart nearly gives out when a familiar voice calls out, “Hey kid, you need a hand with your old man?”

Careful to not unbalance Joe, he turns, heart dropping when he sees the face attached to the voice, Bats, one of the scariest people he had met. Bat’s typical deranged smile made Baby’s mouth dry, and all he could think about was Joe. Joe who shouldn’t have to deal with his shit, Joe who was getting worse by the day, Joe who was his everything. He barely croaked out, “We’re good.”

The smirk was dangerous , “No you’re not.” and he stepped forward, gripping Joe’s other arm.

Joe looked up at Baby in alarm, and Baby had no idea what to do . 

The fourth floor walk up was silent, Baby steadily getting more and more panicked, only calming when he got to their front door.

“Thanks for the help, but we’re good.” The words took effort to come out of him.

His eyes were dangerous, “Not gonna let me in?”

Baby stuttered, “N-no.”

“You’re going to invite me in for tea. Seeing as we’re colleagues.” And with his other hand he patted his side. Where Bats kept his gun.

Shit shit shit.

Door unlocked Baby got Joe into the flat and quickly to his room, leaving Bats alone in the main space. 

‘Who is that?’ Joe signed.

‘Friend.’ Baby signed back.

‘No.’ Joe looked angry at Baby, ‘Call the police.’

“No!” hissed Baby in fear, ‘I’ll get rid of him, you wait here.’ At Joe’s hardening eyes he continued, ‘Please.’

Joe frowned. ‘I will call the police if he isn’t gone.’

Baby sighed, “Give me twenty minutes.”

He frowned, but nodded.

Back in the main space, Baby quickly turned to Bats, who was looking around their flat with a different look on his face, an emotion Baby couldn’t quite place. Different was never good with Bats.

“Doc will be angry if you hurt me.”

Bats laughed, but it didn’t contain his typical crazed flair, “I’m not gonna hurt you Baby, just wanna get to know you.”

Casually, as if Bats wasn’t a killer, he moved around the space. Opening kitchen cupboards, looking into the hall closet, out the duct taped window, into Baby’s bedroom. As he did so Baby kept an eye on the time, trying to figure out how to get him to leave.

Finally, as Baby spiralled further into panic, Bats spoke, “You live like this?” the words were, calm, or as calm as he could be, and measuring.

“Yeah.”

“Huh.”

And then he left.

…

The next day, a group of men show up, and through the peephole in the door he sees that they are here to fix the elevator. The elevator that has been broken since he moved here. His other neighbours come out of their apartments to watch, in surprise. The owner of the building hadn’t ever given a rats ass if the elevator worked.

And now …

At Joe’s next appointment, they took the elevator down to Mary’s car, and then back up again when they were finished. It felt like a blessing.

…

A week later, he gets groceries delivered to his place, which he did not order .

“I’m sorry, I didn’t order these.”

“They’re pre-paid, and got your name on them.” At Baby’s hesitant expression the delivery girl sighed, “Listen either you take them or I gotta take them back, and then they get thrown in the dumpster.”

So Baby takes them. 

A week later the same delivery girl shows up.

“Again?” he asks in surprise, half expecting the first round to have been a clerical error.

“Yep. And better get used to it. You’re signed up for the next year.”

…

The day after an eventful job, the doorbell rings at way too early o’clock. Blearily he gets up and opens the door, to a man with a clipboard.

“Sign here.” Says the man, who looks just as tired as Baby feels.

Baby signs on auto pilot.

The man takes the clipboard back, “Good, and here.” He shuffles around the papers and pulls out an envelope, handing it to Baby. Baby takes it confused, and watches as the man gestures over his shoulder, “Okay guys, bring it in.”

More people are behind him, all holding various large boxes. 

“I don’t-” 

But the man shoulders past him, and the others follow.

Baby tears open the letter, looking for some explanations. 

‘It’s not for you, it’s for your old man’

No signature, but Baby knows who it was. And suddenly he suspects he knows who paid for the groceries as well. 

So he waits in the kitchen, as their ratty smelly couch, stained coffee table, uncomfortable arm chair, the television, record player, and various other pieces of furniture and home items Joe had gotten off the curb are taken and replaced with brand new pieces. Even the stools in the kitchen are taken and replaced. 

By the time Joe gets up, he nearly falls over in surprise at the sight of his refurbished home. And no matter how much Baby assured him he had ‘won a contest’ Baby was pretty sure the thing that convinced him was his new arm chair (Baby tested it later - it was as comfortable as it looked, and had a massage function).

…

Bats pats himself on the back the next time he sees the kid, who looks much better rested and much less scared of Bats.

Wait, was that good?

…

Much later, in a passing conversation where Doc conveyed his dismay over Bats trying to lure away his driver, the debt is casually mentioned. A debt meaning that his getaway driver didn’t even want to drive. 

He loses a boss that day.

Oh well. Shady fucks are pretty replaceable.